


Forbidden

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Hogwarts, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 18:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Millie knows it’s wrong. Everything about this makes her stomach turn, terrifies her beyond belief. Yet she keeps coming back, time and again to that same supply closet at the end of the potions corridor.
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 9
Collections: 2021 DBQ Round One: Boggart





	Forbidden

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [TheSlytherinCabal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSlytherinCabal/pseuds/TheSlytherinCabal) in the [DBQ2021Round1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DBQ2021Round1) collection. 



> Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The theme for this round of the competition was Boggart and my chosen pairing was Millicent Bullstrode/Ron Weasley. Comments/Reviews are encouraged by The Slytherin Cabal's Admin Team on all stories in Death By Quill, but comments left by readers are set to be moderated by story authors until the end of the competition in order to protect participants' anonymity. Thank you to my beta for their time and help.

Millie knows it’s wrong.

Everything about this makes her stomach turn, terrifies her beyond belief.

Yet she keeps coming back, time and again to that same supply closet at the end of the potions corridor.

He’s already there, waiting for her when she hesitantly opens the closet door. He’s smiling, head tilted and relaxed, as though he knew all along she would show.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she mumbles, cutting the space between them, pressing a hand to his hairline and gently grazing his cheek. “Ron,” she whispers, letting her fingertips brush through his hair.

“Then why are you here, Milile?” he drawls, his voice so low the vibrations crawl down her neck.

“I can’t stay away,” she admits softly, looking up into Ron Weasley’s brilliant blue eyes. She presses her lips to his, wraps her arms around his waist. He’s so familiar now, his plump lips and snaking tongue.

But her mind whirls in fear as it does whenever they meet like this. Being with him, _loving_ Ron Weasley, is something unfathomable, something that could destroy her.

His fingers snake to the bottom of her blouse, tugging at the thin fabric, pulling her to him. 

She moans as their hips meet, shuddering at the warmth that pools in her core at the contact. She wants so badly to focus only on the feel of his fingertips against her skin, of his teeth grazing her lower lip, but her fear overwhelms her and she steps back.

She places a hand over her mouth, swallowing. “I can’t do this,” she tells him. 

He looks so handsome, his hair askew, his neck reddened and robes wrinkled. He takes a small step forward, reaching out and placing his thumb on her chin. “I want you, Millie. I love you and I want to be with you — really be with you.” His eyes bore into hers, his gaze is so clear. 

Her breath catches and she trembles at his words. “W-we can’t Ron. I’ve to-told you. I lo- I love you but no one can know.” 

His thumb traces her bottom lip and her eyes flutter shut. “Mille,” he breathes into her ear, “I want you.”

She knows she should reach back, turn the doorknob and leave this place, leave _him_. It’s too dangerous. If the world learns she loves Ron Weasley, she will be ruined forever.

He leaves a trail of kisses along her neck and she throws her head back, giving in. As she always does.

She pulls at his robes, tearing the fabric and tucking herself into him. “Ron,” she mumbles against his jaw, pushing down his trousers and urging them against a shelf.

“Millie,” he responds, mumbling as he undresses her. “We’re going to be together forever, my love. I’m going to marry you, and we’ll have so many children.”

She tries to ignore his promises, to let his words slip from her mind. “Please, stop saying these things. Just—” her breath catches at the feel of his hands pressed over her knickers “—just let us, oh gosh,” she moans as his finger slowly circles her clit.

He places a single digit in her cunt, whispering in her ear, “I’ll be making you squirm and moan my name forever, Millie.”

She’s in agony. Pleasure writhes through her, her breath catching as she vibrates at the sensation of his fingers, while terror pierces her heart and strangles her words. “Just — please stop—”

His hand freezes and she lets out an unconscious squeal. “You don’t want me to touch you?” He takes a step back; there’s a predatory glint in his eyes.

Millie’s breath is labored and she shakes her head. “I want you to touch me,” she told him. She aches, her every nerve alight. She needs this.

Ron’s eyes flash and he returns his lips to hers, his hand once more tucking into her knickers. “I can’t wait until we make babies, Milicent,” he tells her as two fingers slide through her entrance.

She would collapse were it not for his arms holding her steady. 

“Can you imagine what our wedding will be like? We can have it at the Burrow in the Garden, my mum will do all the cooking,” he intones while his fingers continue to press in and out of her, his thumb circling her nub.

“Don’t — talk about — marriage,” she pleads, her legs quaking. But she knows it won’t help; he knows she’s betrothed to another, that she can’t possibly live this life he whispers about.

But he does it anyway. “I’m going to do this to you against our kitchen counter. It will be small, because we won’t have much, but I’ll make you feel things that will make you not care,” he tells her as he bends his fingers, pressing into her as only he knows how..

She pulses around his fingers, the pleasure at war with his grating words.

“Everyone will know about us,” he whispers as she finally comes undone.

She collapses onto his chest, her breaths short and legs still uneven. She wishes this could be something else, that she could truly be with him.

“You don’t need anyone but me, Mille,” he taunts her, his fingers tangling in her curls, his breaths lingering against her neck.

She forces herself to step back and redress, avoiding his heady gaze.

“That’s it?” he says, standing in his boxers with his hands dangling at his sides. He raises a single eyebrow, knowing what the gesture does to her. He’s so enticing; but she knows she can’t do this — she shouldn’t...

She pulls her wand from her robe and points it at him. “ _Riddikulus!”_ she shouts.

As he does every time, the Boggart resembling Ron Weasley turns into an adorable red setter. She struggles to keep her lips from curling at the sight of the small bundle of fur, yipping at her feet.

She lets out a small cry and forces herself to turn and leave the dreaded closet as her chest shatters to a thousand pieces. She runs through the halls, her eyes welling with tears as she forces herself not to run back.

But she knows she’ll return. Because she loves him; even if the idea of it, of being with him terrifies her more than anything, she craves him. Being with him breaks her heart, tears at her spirit, but she’s addicted to him.

Even if it’s a monster disguised as him — mocking her as her greatest fear, she’ll take it.


End file.
